Green Eyed Monster
by neverbirds
Summary: “Oh, really, how so?” She asked, trying to keep calm, unable to hear anything other than the noises coming from Tim’s bedroom last night, looping over and over in her mind." Tim/Daisy.


_N.B: I am terribly out of character, it doesn't follow the pattern of the show at all as it's you know, not full of crack and Simon Pegg's hilarity, but I wrote it and there is a serious lack of Spaced fanfiction (as in, it's virtually non-existent) so I thought I would remedy this. Oh, and I am actually I 15 year old fanfic writer, so don't use that as an insult in your inevitable flames and be nice because I'm so likkle, please? ): _

_Anyway, yes. R&R would be lovely. _

Daisy Steiner had always been the jealous type. When she was 7, she bit her big sisters finger so hard that she had to go to hospital to have the tip re-attached, all because their mother had baked some cupcakes to sell at the school fair for her instead of Daisy. When she was 13, she tried to dress exactly like her best friend Martha because all of the boys liked her and never paid any attention to Daisy, apart from when they wanted her on their football team because Daisy had a mean streak and made an excellent striker. When she was 16, she met Twist and thought she was perfect, which then led her to feel an even stronger sense of dejection for her own mis-matched fashion sense and dumpy body which she still feels to this day. Tim said she was cuddly, but Daisy couldn't help but long for Twist's figure that made Brian go all ..._gooey_ whenever he laid eyes on her. Not that Brian wasn't in a permanent state of gloopy emotional mess, and not that she particularly wanted Brian to look at her in that way, but she still felt a churning sensation in the lower regions of her stomach whenever Twist was involved in any social activities. She had reached a point where she couldn't even remember why they became friends in the first place.

And that was why she loved these nights out with Tim. No Twist, no big sister competing for their mother's attention, just the two of them sat in the pub reaching a gradual state of inebriation. The green eyed monster inside of her _stayed _inside of her when she was the object of her flatmate's attention. She forgot all about her sense of dejection for herself and the resentment she harboured for those she felt were better than her, when Tim's arm brushed hers or his fingers rested platonically on her knee. When his slurred words were meant just for her, she was ignorant and she was happy. So it did not bode well with her when she returned from the pub's overused and unclean bathroom and found a particularly attractive woman (who, incidentally, looked suspiciously like her best friend when she was 13. Daisy had the sudden urge to kick something -) whispering in Tim's ear. No, it didn't bode well with her at all. She was surprised that she wasn't surprised, really, that the familiar mixture of longing and anger and anxiety welled up within her when it came to Tim. She had felt it when Sarah wanted him back, she had felt it when Sophie stuck her stupid little perfect tongue down his throat in _their _house. And she could feel it now, watching that sly little grin spread over her friend's face, her best friend, as the woman who had attached herself so delicately to his side whispered something delicious in his ear. She walked tentatively back to the table to collect her coat and keys, knowing that she wasn't wanted right now (and that in itself brought a crushing feeling of unwarranted of rejection raining down on her) and trying ever so hard not to make eye contact with Tim. That didn't turn out to be much of a problem; he only had eyes for this _other girl_ now, anyway. After a mumbled 'excuse me' she brushed past them, and suddenly Tim's arm brushing against hers didn't keep the monster inside of her down, the simple notion brought the monster up full force, screaming and roaring inside her own head until she just wanted to take it out on him and shout and make _him_ feel this way, make him hurt.

She knew that he hadn't made any mistakes, not really, but there was a tiny bubble of bitterness catching in her throat towards the man; ever since he had disappeared inside his bedroom with Sophie when the world was going to shit, and all she needed was some reassurance, just a hug, a few kind words to make her feel just a bit better. To let her know that he cared. She could deal with being second best in his life, she could, but when it came to being third or fourth in his rank of affections, Daisy found it hard to handle. Especially when she thought so highly of him; hell! Out of the group they had created for themselves, Tim was the only person whose opinion she regarded as important, the only one who could make her smile like that, the only one who kept her jealously inside of her. And now those feelings were pouring out of her, out of the warmth of the pub, past the door and into the cold night, leaving the faint sound of Tim's voice repeating her name half-heartedly behind her. She took a deep breath, the lump in her throat caused by her unshed tears hurting.

God, she was emotional when she was drunk.

She paused a moment, wondering if Tim would follow her out of the pub, before disregarding the fleeting thought as fruitless and downright ridiculous and making the short walk back to their home. Their names on the doorbell, the smell of him in the living room, his pictures on the walls. She cursed herself, wishing he didn't own a constant presence in her thoughts, wishing she could just get over him, wishing her head didn't feel so light and the air so thick. Wishing the toilet was nearer and that he was there to hold back her hair and place a kiss on her forehead. Wishing she could get to sleep, wishing she didn't have to lie there all night and listen to them in the next room. But even Daisy wasn't naive enough to think wishes ever came true.

The next morning was an overdue nightmare from her sleepless night. The tea she was drinking was too sweet, didn't take the edge off her headache or quell the horrible feeling her stomach caused when it decided to perform back flips, a feeling whose cause she couldn't decide; the effects of alcohol or the fact that the girl currently occupying Tim's arms was much prettier than she remembered. _I bet they don't even have anything in common, _she thought darkly, before remembering that she and Tim didn't really have anything in common, either. She darkly observed them giggle and kiss goodbye over her cup and decided to ignore his euphoric smile and try to write. Well, she pretended to ignore the way his lips curved upwards and she pretended to fill the empty sheets with words and imagery to pay her rent, but she wasn't sure which of the two she could admit to herself. She could feel Tim looking at her, his eyes boring into her bowed head bent over the typewriter.

_Oh, I have no willpower._

"What?" She asked him, breaking her vow of silence, but never looking up at him.

"You seem..." he paused, looking for the right word. Daisy bit the inside of her cheek, not wanting to know what the next word was. "...different."

"Oh, really, how so?" She asked, trying to keep calm, unable to hear anything other than the noises coming from Tim's bedroom last night, looping over and over in her mind. Her attempt to keep her voice level was futile, the four words emitted in a much higher tone than she had planned.

He didn't answer her question. "You just vanished last night, you know. I was worried."

Oh, she could just imagine his expression right now. Ever so innocent, the arrogant cock. Eyes wide, once again the sole object of his attention. This was the first time it hadn't stopped her jealousy. "Really? I had the feeling you were a little preoccupied to give a shit about my whereabouts." Never looking up, Daisy. Voice calm. Airy Tone. Tim stunned into silence. K.O.

The silence grew a little uncomfortable, Daisy had to admit. Was that too far? He hadn't done anything wrong , not really. No, don't look at him – oh, those eyes. He looks so sad... no, Daisy! He is an arrogant cock, don't forget that. He never has and never will think of you in that way and your anger towards him is totally justifiable for his actions of rejection last night.

"Daisy, why... why are you being like this?"

Deep breath, Daisy.

"Because! Because I leave for 2 minutes and when I come back you've already forgotten all about me!" Okay, so that came out a little angrier than she had wanted. He can't help the way she feels about him, after all. The atmosphere in the kitchen grew dark. A storm was brewing, she could feel it, because she couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"Shouldn't you be happy for me? It's not every day a beautiful woman shows interest in me, you know!"

"What, happy for you? Happy that a few months down the line I'll be the one to pick up the pieces, put up with your mood swings because you thought she was fucking her boss? Happy that you'll take it all out on me?"

"Oh, come off it! This isn't about that and you know it."

His eyes were dark. He was stepping ever closer.

"Oh, go wank over Scully or something." She muttered darkly, trying so hard not to get drawn into his stare.

There was a pause. "You're jealous."

Daisy thought her heart had stopped.

"N-No... I'm not!" She exclaimed, with all the passion and coherency she could muster. It was difficult to lie when your favourite secret is in question, when the best friendship you had ever been handed was in danger of being jeopardised with one wrong moment.

"Yes you are," He grinned. It wasn't malicious, but the smile still made Daisy uneasy. "You're jealous because I'm always the one who hooks up, not you. It's not my fault you can never get a boyfriend."

Daisy could have laughed with relief until the full force of his words hit her. She choked on any wit she may have been harbouring, in denial that he could be so hurtful.

"Fuck you, you self-centred piece of shit! You really think that's what this about?" She practically screamed at him, standing up from her comfortable position so fast and with such force the chair went flying backwards. Moving closer and closer towards him, preparing to strike, unable to wait for her skin to connect with his pretty fucking face. "It couldn't possibly be anything to do with you, could it? You can never do anything wrong, can you, Tim! How dare you. How fucking dare you. You're supposed to be my friend! You drop me for anything with breasts, just like that. You become this horrible shell of what you were before and I fucking hate you when you're like this!" She paused for breath, not for the startled expression on his face and the hurt in his eyes. At least, that's what she told herself.

"Daisy, I..."

"No! Just shut up! You don't think maybe I don't have a boyfriend for another reason, huh? Maybe I don't want a boyfriend! Maybe I'm just waiting for the right guy! Maybe-"

For a moment, Daisy couldn't understand why her mouth had stopped producing words. But when her back collided with the wall, sensation came flooding back to her and suddenly she was very aware of the hair on Tim's face brushing against her skin, his lips on hers, his hands holding her face, not wanting to let her go. He was forceful and gentle and passionate and if her head would just stop spinning she could figure out how they ended up in this position. Plus, kissing Tim turned out to be much more distracting than just thinking about it.

"Okay." She smiled against his lips, her hands entwined with his hair. "Maybe I was a little jealous."

He dropped a small kiss to her lips. "Sorry." He murmured. The sound was almost unintelligible.

"You're an ignorant bastard sometimes, Tim." She moved her head slightly as she smiled but her intentions were misread, and they somehow ended up kissing instead. Not that she minded too much.

"Hey. Does this mean I get to score twice in less than 8 hours?"

Daisy found a surprising amount of entertainment in hitting Tim.

And later, when she was laid in his arms surrounded by posters of women she longed to look like, after he _did _score twice in less than eight hours, she realised that she wouldn't mind being jealous, sometimes. Because Tim Bisley made her feel beautiful.


End file.
